The Flowers Have Already Withered
by Greyson Finch
I sit there alone,
Whispering to my flowers.
Nothing but flesh and bone,
As I pour water on their soil.
They have long-since died,
But I could save them,
I could try.
If they could survive…
We’ll make it through the winter,
One more time.
About the Author
Greyson Finch is a poet from Oklahoma. Throughout his life, he’s struggled with his mental health and childhood trauma while also growing up queer in the South. He uses that to write pieces that speak to the soul. Pieces that people like him can read to know they’re not alone. He can be found on X — @Greyson_Finch77 and Instagram – @GreysonFinchWrites.
